Falling Is Just Like Flying
by PrettyLittleRose
Summary: Dean Winchester had a son, Ethan. Another weakness. "I don't even know how long I've been down here. It could've been days, months, or even years. You sort of lose time in traumatic times like this." Rated M to be safe. Implied Sastiel. Daddy!Dean Protective!Dean!Sam!Cas Uncle!Sam!Cas Hurt!OMC Torture!


_"Falling is like flying, except there's more permanent destination."_

I can't tell you I was scared. I can't tell you that I didn't flinch. I can't tell you that I didn't scream or cry or yell for my dad or prayed for someone to kill me. If I did, I'd be lying.

I may be the child of Dean Winchester, but that doesn't mean that I'm fearless or that I'm tough. He's experienced Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, and Avalon. I've been to none of the above.

I've won school awards. Honor roll, perfect attendance, 4.0 GPA, the whole nine yards. I've won championships. Soccer, football, baseball. You know it. I've even achieved going on a date. It was one time but still, it counts.

But torture, I can't say that I've had experience with it. Sure, I've watched movies with Uncle Sam and someone got tortured for information. Yea, I listened to my dad talk about the pain that him and Sam went through back when they were younger. But I've never experienced it first-hand.

Let me give you a description. Imagine being held somewhere, and the exit is right there. You can't move. You're tied down. You can't leave. Then imagine stomach pain but times that pain by ten. Imagine getting a muscle cramp but imagine it all over your body and times that pain by three. Imagine losing your intestines one by one, and seeing them strung beside you, only for them later to be put back in after examination but harshly and the stiches be put in too loose and sewn like an amateur.

I don't even know how long I've been down here. It could've been days, months, or even years.

You sort of lose the concept of day or night in traumatic times like this..

* * *

"Gah!" I choked out as my head was brought back above the barrel for the third time. Each time, they held me in the barrel of water for two minutes straight before letting me get a breathe of air. They would ask the same question over and over.

"Where's the First Blade?" And I would reply the same way.

"Kiss my ass, bitch." And then I met water again.

This only happened one more time before I was yanked out of the water and thrown on the ground. A demon bitch got on top of me and looked into my green eyes with her black ones.

"Not gonna talk, kid? We got methods to make you talk." She snarled in my face. A fireplace poker was in her hand the next second, the end it glowing bright orange.

I didn't get moment to speak before that poker was placed against the skin of my neck. I let out an inhuman scream, white hot pain traveling through my body.

As soon as it begun, it ended. That was until the it was placed against my left side.

She would do this twice before asking more, not so politely.

My answer was still the same.

I faded in and out but once I was fully aware of where I was, I noticed I was chained up to a chair. But there was no back to this chair. It was open. I was practically sitting on a stool with arms. My arms were chained to the floors, so my back arched. My legs were chained to the legs of the stool and my face was looking down at the floor.

Also, my mouth just happened to be gagged.

I heard the footsteps of someone walking behind me and then a hand trailed down my back, softly. Almost gentle-like.

I heard someone whisper into my ear. "Where's the First Blade?"

I shook my head, and glared at the floor. Like seriously, how was I gonna talk with cloth stuffed in my mouth.

"What was that?" They said, pretending like they were listening. I tried to talk through the cloth.

"'Uck yew." I muttered, braced myself for another burn or punch to be thrown my way.

Nothing happened for thirty seconds. And that's when I noticed how silent it was. There was no footsteps of the person behind me, though I saw them walk somewhere behind me. There was no sound of moving air, just the sound of me breathing.

Then, I heard something crack through the air and then something hard, thin, and solid landed on my back. I can proudly say that I didn't scream out and only whimpered when I felt the skin in my back split apart.

Twice, three times this happened before the torturer stopped before asking me the same question with my same answer.

This went on for hours. It had to be. It got to the point where I could no longer feel if something was cutting into my back or not. I could still feel the blood running down my back though and I could hear the steady drip of what I knew to be my blood.

I heard the weapon of my torturer's choice drop to the floor and I heard the footsteps of the the person leave the room and fade down the hallway.

Another person entered the room and I felt my skin getting tighter together and there was pain but less than when I was being whipped.

I was picked up, not gently, and threw into the cell which I considered my home now.

Darkness came to me and not for the first time, I welcomed it with open arms.

* * *

I awoke in my tiny cell for the first time in a while and though my back was protesting with every move I made, I forced myself to stand and walk over to the half-way broken sink and almost shattered mirror. I ran grainy water over my hands and slapped water onto my face and then proceeded to look at myself.

My dark brown hair wasn't so short anymore, it was almost down to my chin now. It was matted with my blood, sweat, and who knows what else. I stared into my green eyes, that were so much like my fathers and they used to be filled with this sparkle, but now all I saw was this empty shell that I used to be.

There was a cut on my face. It started just a little bit above my right eye and extended to about an inch above my chin. It was a long cut, and sort of deep. Deep enough to leave a scar. It was still trickling blood, little by little.

I breathed heavily, staring at my reflection for the next ten minutes until two demons came and got me.

As I was pulled from that room, I couldn't help that part of me would always be stuck here.

* * *

A bag was stuffed over my head, making me useless to my surroundings.

But I could hear everything still, and I don't know if they knew this.

"You did make contact with the Winchester's, right?" A male voice asked.

"Of course. They agreed to whatever I wanted to." A voice replied.

"Just can't wait to see look on their faces on what we did to Ethan here." A female voice said, chuckling a little and then my face was slammed against a hard surface and I met darkness for the second time in the last 24 hours.

* * *

I awoke from my induced sleep when someone was forcing me to stand up.

"Urgh." I groaned, my legs wanting to buckle under the weight of my body. After having almost all areas of my legs skinned, and then my muscles messed around with, my legs were not in the mood to walk me around.

My arms were aching from being tied behind me constantly for however long these people had me for. My back was scorching hot right now, the stitched up whip wounds aggravating with every move I made. The burns I had on my body were smarting with every slight movement or turn of my head. My two broken fingers were constantly moving in their sockets and I wanted to cry out from the constant pain. Three other fingers were smashed and couldn't even move if I wanted to. They were limp. My left shoulder was dislocated and my left arm hung limp behind my back, my wrist tied to the other.

I felt like I was burning over and over again and I wanted to scream out in pain as I was forced to my knees. I was sitting on my ankles and I let my head hang down to lay on my chest.

"Any moment now." Someone said from behind me. I couldn't tell who because I still had the bag on my head. I could hear two things though.

One was a roaring current from behind me, not that far behind me. It roared like it was hungry and was looking to devour something.

Another was the rumbling of an all to familiar engine. It shut off as soon as Ethan heard it and then he heard the footsteps of his dad, and uncles.

"Winchester's."

"Crowley and Demons." I heard Dad's voice and I wanted to cry.

"Why don't you say 'Hello' Ethan? It's only polite thing to do." Crowley set nudging his foot against my dislocated shoulder.

I sat there, biting my lip in pain before responding. "...'Ello." I said mutely.

"Ethan? You okay, buddy?" I heard Uncle Sam's voice and I wanted to cry out _'No, you fucking idiot. I'm not okay! I feel like I'm dying and I'm sitting here acting like everything is okay!'_

Instead, I nodded slightly.

"Where's the blade, squirrel?" The man, _Crowley,_ said. I heard the all too familiar click of two guns being pulled out.

"You think we're gonna bring you the blade Crowley? How you gone stupid in the business? Just give us Ethan and no one will get hurt." Though anyone who didn't know his Dad, Ethan could clearly hear the concern in his voice for his only son.

There was silence.

"Alright, bloody hell." The man said, and pulled the bag off of my head and I looked through a swollen eye at my family.

Dad looked scruffier than normal and his eyes sunk in. Uncle Sam looked like he had lost weight and he looked like death warmed over. Uncle Cas stood tall and proud, but even I could see that he wasn't healthy as normal.

They all scanned over the visible injuries and I saw the barely concealed rage in all their eyes.

"Up, boy." Ethan heard Crowley say to him and I was roughly put on my own two foot and stumbled back a foot.

"You want your son, don't you Dean?" Everyone knew something was wrong when Crowley called Dad 'Dean' instead of 'squirrel'.

"Crowley don't act dumb, of course I want my son." I heard his voice waver, as if he was scared of what Crowley was going to do or say.

"Ever heard of the phrase 'Falling is just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination'?"

I saw Uncle Sam go to answer but Dad beat him to the punch.

"No. Why does some stupid quote matter?"

"Because. Your son's about to experience that." Crowley said.

The last thing I saw was my Dad's eyes comically widen, as did Uncle Sam's and Cas' and then I felt hands on my shoulder and my body was flew backwards.

I didn't land on anything immediately. Nope, I kept going. Down and down and down until I felt straight through the raging current below.

* * *

Everything was so heavy. My limbs felt like they were ten times heavier. I couldn't tread this water. It was too fast, too much. I fought against the current for a good minute before letting myself go, feeling myself drag below the current.

I could have swore that arms wrapped around my torso and I was being dragged to the surface but it was probably just my imagination playing tricks on me.

But then my head broke the surface and I could breathe again. I took the deepest breathe I had ever taken in my life and let myself rag-doll, and felt as the person behind me dragged me to the coast.

Looking up through blurry eyes, I saw that no demons stood on the cliff where I fell off of and their was no vehicle there. Instead, there was two men in one car, which was driving erratically down the hill and stopped recklessly at the bottom and then they waited at the edge of the water.

If Dad and Uncle Cas were standing by the water that meant that Uncle Sam was behind me.

I tried to say 'Thanks' for not letting me die or give up but all the came out was a choke and a garble. Sam patted my back, assuring me he knows what I meant and I let darkness overcome me.

* * *

Everything was blurry. I was laying on my stomach. There was something soft and warm underneath of me but it wasn't moving. I wasn't wearing anything above my waist either.

Someone was touching my back, looking at my wounds and it was pure reflex to try to flip myself over and get the upper hand over the person behind me but when I went to lift myself up, a hand landed on my shoulders gently and urged me to lay back down.

I let myself be laid back down and took comfort in the hand that ran through my hair until something that felt like liquid and was cold ran over my back. It felt relaxing for a good three seconds.

Then the stinging overtook the coldness, spiking pain in my entire back. I arched my back and an inhuman sound left my mouth and entered the room I was in, and it echoed loud and clear.

There was someone shushing me in my ear and I felt drops of water land on my head. I don't know who was behind me, who was touching my back and who was comforting me but I was scared.

I wanted my Dad. I wanted to smell the leather jacket he always wore and I wanted to hear his deep, husky voice in my ear, telling me that everything was alright even though it wasn't. I wanted to feel his arms around me and I wanted him to take the pain away.

I wanted my Uncles, who would do anything to make me happy or feel safe. I wanted to hear their stupid jokes and I wanted to see them bicker at each other.

I felt someone's fingers prodding at my back, at the biggest mark, and I let out another scream, the pain shouting straight through my body. Someone poked the stitching that was in the most of the cuts and I let out another yell, my throat already feeling sore.

Something soft but itchy was laid over my entire back. It was maybe in four or five patches but eventually, it covered my whole back.

 _Gauze._

I was turned over onto my back and I let out the most inhuman noise I've ever made, the pressure on my back increased so much that I felt like someone had set a 50 pound weight against the wounds individually.

I heard shushing again and some words that sounded like 'I'm so sorry'. There was sobs and whimpers from the other people who was in my presence.

The cut on my face was stitched and somehow, I didn't flinch at the tightening that I felt in my face, though I was super sensitive.

I was fine until they got to my fingers and started wrapping them. The two broken fingers were fine, it was the three smashed fingers that caused so much pain.

I bucked and tried to get them off of me but someone held down my shoulder, not putting any weight on my dislocated shoulder and someone held me tightly though loosely down on my waist.

Screaming the whole time and arching my back, all five of my injured fingers were eventually set. I was then sat up and someone moved behind me while two others held my abdomen and my right arm. I felt someone put their hands on my left shoulder and then jerked as hard as they could.

Darkness never has come so quickly to me.

* * *

It felt like home, like I was actually safe here. But then whatever this was turned nasty and I was back under the water, struggling to survive.

I choked on the salt-water and felt my lungs fill with it. I couldn't do anything as I was dragged deeper into the ocean and it turned dark for a few seconds.

Then I woke back up in my cell again, my wounds on my back still bleeding and someone was standing over me, cutting in my back over and over again. Slowly, each time with the knife became deeper and deeper. Soon, they hit my spine and I could feel myself slowly mix in with the environment.

Then I was staring into a barrel of water in the heart. I watched it come closer until I became a part of the water, though I was struggling and searching for air.

My vision darkened and I lost my train of thought.

My eyes snapped open and I took a deep breath and gasped as I looked around my living room.

Uncle Cas was asleep on the couch opposite from me and was curled up to Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam was on the couch with Uncle Sam and his head rested on top of Uncle Cas'. Both of them had crestfallen looks on their faces.

I looked to the end of my couch and saw Dad there, with one of his arms wrapped around his abdomen and the other was resting lightly on my leg. He looked like he was afraid to touch me and I didn't like that.

I sat up despite my aching injuries and moved closer until my head was on his shoulder and my legs were curled underneath of me.

Dad's arm came up and wrapped loosely but so tight around my waist and tucked me securely against him.

I smiled gently and let my eyes close to the gently lulling of my Dad's breathing and the scent of leather, and distant alcohol.

* * *

The dreams were same but they kept repeating over and over again.

Waking up a second time, I forced my body to move and I made my way to the bathroom and threw up the little amount of food was in my body.

Trust me, I was surprised that they fed me too.

My stomach kept pumping so I kept dry-heaving into the toilet. I felt a hand on my neck, rubbing soothingly to assure me that they were there.

I laid my head against the porcelain throne and gasped for air, thanking whoever was above that it was coming easily to me.

"Up we go, tiger." I heard Dad whisper in my ear as I was lifted from the ground and brought back to the living room. He sat me down on the couch and sat behind me, curling his arms loosely around my waist and tucking me securely against him.

Neither one of us said anything until Dad decided to break the silence.

"Don't go missing again, okay?" His voice was heavy with emotion.

I let out a watery chuckle. "No problem. You'll get sick of me sooner or later."

Soon enough, Uncle Cas and Uncle Sam woke up and stared at me like I was a miracle sent from God himself.

We sat there in silence for a long time.

That was until I asked the dreaded question.

"How long was I there?"

No one said anything. Just adverted their eyes away from me. Even Dad wouldn't look at me.

"How long?" I echoed myself and watched as Sam swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Four months." He said tonelessly. I nodded, emotionless, and stared out in the distance.

I was with those demons for _four_ months and somehow, I was back here with my family and I was broken a bit but that was nothing time couldn't fix.

* * *

Time passes. It did for Dad. It did for Uncle Cas and Uncle Sam and it did for me too.

It wasn't easy, hunting as a broken soldier. But that's just how it is.

Being a hunter is never an easy thing. Being a tortured hunter is just asking for karma to bit you in the ass. I cannot count how many times that I would be hunting with my Dad, because I wanted to be a part of what was going on, and I get shocked by my own memories and get hurt in the process.

Dad would always patch me up later and we would watch some sort of old western movie and we ate greasy burgers and laughed at the weird jokes.

He would wake me up in the middle of the night and just hold me after I got done screaming because of my nightmares. He would rock me back and forth and whisper "It's okay. I got you. You're okay."

He would stroke my hair back with one hand while the other held me tightly to him. I felt wetness on my shoulder on more than one occasion and heard the words 'I'm so sorry, baby boy. You don't deserve this.'

My Dad was healing my pain every day, just being here.

Perhaps I could heal his as well.

Though I was still confused about something.

What is the First Blade? Why is Crowley searching for it?

* * *

 _Woo. My eyes sting a little._

 _Should I write a companion piece to this?_

 _And if I do, should it be about how Ethan came into the world and Dean as a Dad or furthering the search for the First Blade and Crowley._

 _There's a back story to this, I swear._

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Reviews are love for me :)_

 _~PrettyLittleRose_


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